


Memory Numb

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cervix Fucking, Crying, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Excessive Fluids, Fantasy Genitals, Knotting, Lactation Kink, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Men Crying, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Oviposition, Pining, Power Imbalance, Pseudo-Incest, Size Difference, Slime, Squirting, Tentacle Sex, Transformation, Vaginal Sex, Vomiting, Worship, womb fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: Written for Ziaren! Arkham makes a point about power, syphoning off Vergil's during coitus. Vergil has both a penis and a vagina here.
Relationships: Arkham | Jester/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Sparda/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Memory Numb

"Why don't you just kill him?" Arkham asked as he watched their prey dash between demons a great deal away below them, his hands clasped behind his back, his book slotted against his back. 

"Hmm," Vergil mused from his seat. Dante was making his way through the tower without much of a problem, though Vergil was sure that was about to change. "Do you find him a threat?" 

"No, he's nothing more than an insect, but even a fly may bite." 

Vergil flipped the page of his own book, a heavy tome of forgotten poetry. There were some beautiful works in the tower, ones that humanity had forgotten. "If he is but an insect then let him be. He'll be swatted and eaten by something or other." 

"You could go down there and make quick work of him," Arkham growled, turning on his heel to face Vergil, walking over to the chaise Vergil was resting upon. "You are a man of great power and skill, you could dispatch him in a manner of movements." 

"If you want him dead so badly, how come you're asking me to deal with it?" 

He hadn't noticed Arkham coming so close to him until Arkham's hand was on his chest, sliding up from his diaphragm to his breast to his neck, drawing his ire as well as his pulse, not that he'd allow himself to appear flustered. Arkham's fingers went around the chain that barely poked up from beneath his ascot and pulled the amulet up, let it rest on his chest. He didn't move away though, stayed terribly close, so the pair could breathe each other in. 

"He has something you need, truly you must want it, as it will unlock the power you require so terribly." 

That was true. Dante had the second half of the amulet that he needed to open the portal to Hell. Still, that was his brother, and, as little as he was willing to admit it, he cared. He wanted Dante to keep his humanity, wanted him to keep this life that he had. If he could keep Dante in his precious human world he would. He didn't need to fall into the life of a demon quite yet. 

"I will meet with him soon, enough," Vergil decided, "I won't waste energy that I don't need to." 

Arkham looked him over, predatory, and Vergil felt a thrill up his spine that he didn't often feel. Arkham was not his better, he was just a human, he couldn't match him, but there was a strange feeling that Vergil had when the man was around, especially when he was as close as he was. A feeling that made him want to keep going, to push his limits. 

There was something about Arkham that made him feel weak. 

"Is it because he's family?" Arkham asked, "Blood is not something that I would expect you to put such interest in. Family is good for nothing but betrayal. Surely you have seen that in my own daughter. And your father's timely disappearance." 

Vergil glared at him and set the book down. The feeling of weakness had passed, replaced instead with disgust, "Do not think yourself worthy of mentioning my father." 

Arkham put a hand, warm, living, human, on his thigh and Vergil could feel an awkward jump in his stomach. Arkham was, in a strange way, moving towards sex, he could tell, he always came close, always touched without asking, when he wanted to do more than talk. Unfortunately, Vergil's body was already responding to it, as if it knew what Arkham wanted and was preparing itself. 

Arkham lowered himself to his knees, his proper place, beneath Vergil. He was a lowly parishioner in front of his god, head bowed in prayer. That was how it was meant to be. 

"My apologies, I just worried of your alliances." 

Vergil huffed and rested his cheek against the knuckles of his hand. He recrossed his legs, careful to not kick Arkham in the face as he did. "My alliances are where they've always been, to myself. You know your place." 

Arkham bowed further, setting his precious book on the floor beside him as he reached up to clasp Vergil's calf and kiss from the toe to the edge of his boot. "I have never forgotten it, my lord." A little bit of vinegar in his words but Vergil didn't mind. He was partially aware, after all, that nothing that Arkham had told him was sincere. Still, he had knowledge that Vergil needed and the praise felt good, felt oddly right; as if he had earned it. 

Arkham's hands worked the clasp of his boot and pulled it, slowly, off. Vergil wriggled his toes as Arkham pulled his sock away as well. Arkham's mouth kept moving up, somewhere between a lover and a sinner though they both knew that he was neither; he was worse. His way of loving Vergil's body was strange, adamant and obsessive, a form of worship, but the feelings behind it were odd and if Vergil was more willing to show his reactions to it he would believe that Arkham was doing it to get under his skin. Either way, it felt good to have someone on their knees before him. 

The other foot came free in much the same way as the first and then, finally, Akrham pulled himself up, just enough to work on the fastenings of Vergil's pants. Vergil didn't help him, he never did, but the man was surprisingly good at stripping him down. Which was a good thing, for Vergil's head was starting to spin, his body feeling floaty as Arkham worked. He wasn't intoxicated, he'd had nothing to drink but a glass of brandy and that was an hour before, well out of his digestion now. 

Arkham was pawing at him, freeing his already hard cock from beneath the leather, and stroking it from the base to the tip, rubbing his thumb under the head the same way he often did Vergil's clit, which was still hidden beneath the folds of his pants. 

"Strange that that boy considers himself your equal," Arkham crooned before pressing a kiss to the tip of Vergil's cock, catching a bead of precum against his lips. "He knows nothing of your strength, of your prowess. He hasn't even learned his own nature." 

"Let's hope it remains that way," Vergil mused, keeping his moan in his throat as Arkham returned to little kisses and nibbles on the underside of his cock. 

Arkham wanted to ask on that, it was clear, but he didn't, instead slipping Vergil's cock into his mouth and slowly lowering himself down on it until it hit the back of his throat. That was hard to stay silent about, the sensitive skin scraping against the wet ridges at the roof of Arkham's mouth and then slipping into the tightness beyond that. For a moment Arkham just held him there and hummed and Vergil had to fight against thrusting, a hand coming up and clutching his amulet to keep him grounded. It was a battle that he'd grown aware of early in their tirade. Who could last longer? Vergil in his attempt at stoicism or Arkham with his need to breathe? 

Vergil won, this time the same as the rest and Arkham pulled off and sucked down air, using his hands to take over for his mouth. One rand base to tip and the other went lower, started to press and rub against the folds of Vergil's pussy, making his fluids gather in the leather and become slimy. 

"What are you waiting for?" Vergil asked, his voice pinched as well as his patience. He knew what Arkham was waiting for, for his lungs to catch up, but he still asked, just to pry. 

"I'm trying to make sense of it," he explained between gasps, "Why you allow such weakness to persist?" 

Vergil crossed his legs, sweeping one around Arkham's neck, pulling him close, trapping his face in his loins. This was different; he didn't usually play along. He was stressed though and his nerves were alight and he needed Arkham to take the edge off. He was also feeling tired, though, strangely so, even with the need to fight so close to the surface. 

"Without those who are weak, how would we know who is strong?" he lied. He wanted Dante on his knees, to take Arkham's place, to lap at his cock and pussy, to give him pleasure. He didn't remember how it had started, or when, but he'd dreamed of it, fantasized about it, and it made him so much more aroused than anything that Arkham could do. 

Arkham took him into his mouth again, rubbing the folds of his pussy harder through his pants, apparently pleased with his answer. He didn't take Vergil as deep as before but he sucked and rolled his tongue against the head as he pulled away, rolled his eyes in the pleasure of the work. Vergil could smell his arousal, knew how hard he was in his own black trousers, and part of him wanted a taste. He had never sucked Arkham off, had never tasted his cum, had allowed him to worship his body alone. He was passive in their coupling, but he wanted more. 

No, he didn't. He wanted the pleasure and he deserved it but there was something else creeping into his veins. He felt dizzy. Something was wrong. 

His orgasm came as a surprise and he had to bite down, hard on his lip, the inside, so that it wouldn't be noticeable, as his head filled with the white buzz of pleasure, as his ejaculate spilled into Arkham's open mouth. He held his breath, didn't let it show, couldn't, but Arkham was staring up at him, holding out his tongue so that the thick fluid started to drip in thick mucousy strands off the sides. 

Only when Vergil relaxed, let himself breathe, let himself sag into his chair feeling as if he'd just run a dozen miles, did he look down at Arkham. That was what the human wanted, his attention. He could see the smile in Arkham's piercing eyes. He closed his mouth, didn't swallow but kept Vergil's cum on his tongue, as he got Vergil to lift his hips so that he could ease his slick filled pants down his thighs and reveal the wet and pink hole tucked away between the folds of his labia. 

When Arkham touched him once more with his mouth it was to stick his cum stained tongue deep into Vergil's body. His hands were holding Vergil's thighs open and Vergil didn't know when he had started shaking but he was. His own ejaculate was inside of himself. He wondered if it would take, what the result of that would be, if that was Arkham's intention. It felt good though, to be so wet, to be touched, for Arkham to fuck him with his tongue and drink of him like his cunt was a golden chalice. 

He didn't ask Arkham to fuck him, didn't demand it of his most loyal follower, but Arkham pulled himself up, lay flush against Vergil's body, licked at his neck, hands undoing the clasps of his vest and pulling it open so that he could slide his hands inside to rub at his sensitive breasts. When they met his amulet they stilled for a moment and Vergil's mind was too foggy to race around why that was. His nipples were soft buds and, when pinched, filled with fresh milk, ready for his young to sup on. He kept his eyes closed, his teeth grit between his lips, and let Arkham play with him. 

He felt so good, better than Vergil had ever thought a human could, as his hot cockhead rubbed at Vergil's folds. He wasn't even inside of him yet, lowering his mouth to one flushed nipple and sucking it into his mouth, humming as he began to drink more of Vergil's fluids. Vergil raised a hand, meaning to grab the back of Arkham's head, direct him, regain some control, but his arm felt so heavy it just fell back to his side. That was fine. Arkham was making him feel good, was taking care of him. He didn't have to do anything. 

"You want this," Arkham purrs, lapping at some of the milk that had escaped his other nipple, freed by a gentle twist of fingers, "You want to feel me inside you." 

Vergil didn't want to admit it. He wanted the stoicism, but he was so desperate, he could feel his pulse in his clit, could feel electric jolts of pleasure under Arkham's fingers. He spread his legs a bit further. 

"Please," he hummed. Even his voice sounded weak to his ears. He should have been worried about that or, at the very least, curious. 

"Please what?" Arkham asked, biting down on a nipple and making the precious milk squirt out into his throat. 

Vergil humped against his cock, shallow, feeling like even that was too much. He didn't know how to word it. He wanted to be worshiped as he usually was, wanted Arkham to prove his worth, but he didn't feel worthy all of a sudden, he felt like he needed Arkham, to be wrapped up in the older man's arms, fucked and loved and kept safe. He wanted him like he wanted a father and more. 

Something about the way Arkham smelled had changed, smelled familiar, like an old memory. He didn't know when it had changed or what it was that he was smelling, but he wanted that smell wrapped around him like a warm blanket. 

"Please, fuck me?" he begged, hating the way begging sounded in his voice. "Fill me up?" 

Arkham chuckled and pushed against him, straightening his back and clutching Vergil's tender chest with his hands, sliding his erection deep into Vergil's cunt on the first push, only stopping when they were flush together. Vergil moaned, unable to contain it, not just his thighs but all of his legs shaking, at feeling so full. He'd taken Arkham's cock before, it had never felt like this, never felt so big. 

Arkham caught Vergil's knees with his arms and turned them, lay Vergil down correctly on the chaise lounge instead of using it like a chair, and hoisted his legs up to his shoulders, laying down upon them. There was the clatter of poety, the book Vergil had been reading falling to the floor. Vergil hadn't been so trapped since he was a child but here, he was safe, he was secure. This was a capture that he did not fear. 

And then Arkham finally started to move, to shove into him, pulling out to the tip and then pushing all the way back in, hitting his cervix on every slide. Vergil couldn't stop himself anymore, after that first allowance his mouth was open and he was moaning with that ache, the way that he felt internally bruised. It felt so good, he feel his orgasm growing back, was ready for it this time. He wanted to reach down and touch his fully hardened penis once more but his legs were in the way, Arkham sliding forward and moving them so that his knees were on the cushions beside his head. 

He never thought he would have this; never thought that Arkham would take so much control. 

There was a flickering of light and a spreading, like a thrum, in his pussy, and Vergil opening his eyes. The flicker happened again and Vergil recognized it, balked at it, eyes wide as he could see the demonic energy rising from Arkham's back, as the purple lightning danced along his skin. That wasn't possible. He knew what Arkham was, he was human. But this was a devil trigger. 

And when he triggered fully, taking the form of a demon that Vergil had never seen before, he grew, his cock almost doubling in size, and it pierced his cervix with its sharp bee stinger-like tip on the first thrust and then into his uterus on the next, making Vergil scream in the confusion of pain and pleasure overwhelming him, making his cock and pussy spurt fluid onto them both. 

The demonic cock was ridged and wide and Vergil was stretched so wide, eyes rolling as those ridges caught and thrust and brought all the muscles inside of him to trembling ecstasy. He had just cum but he wanted more, needed it, and that smell was so familiar, was so gentle and important that he wanted to cling to it. 

"Finally," Arkham growled, his voice even having changed. This form had no lips, just sharp teeth, and Arkham brought them down to nip at Vergil's throat. His clawed hands moved back to Vergil's breasts and squeezed them almost too tightly as they dribbled milk to slide down the sides. "Finally I contain the power of the great Sparda!" 

Days by the window, in the sunshine, reading in his father's lap. That was the scent that was crowding Vergil so much. He moaned harder, wanted a different position, wanted to grab a hold of Sparda and hold him close. His father was here, was above him, but he couldn't touch him, could only feel his hard cock shove into his womb over and over again, battering him. He wanted Sparda so badly, wanted to be held by him like he used to be, he wanted to be loved by him. He never did find out where Sparda went all those years ago, had never seen a hint of him in his travels. 

One of those clawed hands came to his face and wiped away a tear, revealing that he was crying. The realization just made it worse, made him start sobbing. 

"Does the appearance of your father bother you so terribly?" Arkham asked. 

Vergil ignored it, ignored the fact that this was Arkham still fucking him so roughly, lighting every nerve with joy. He gained the strength, impossibly, to raise his hand, to take Sparda's talons and keep them where they were against his cheek. 

"D-" Vergil choked as he turned his face to kiss at the scaled palm. "Daddy, please?" 

Something softened in Sparda's face, in the expression. Even though there was nothing human in it there was a noticeable change and Vergil wanted to think that it was care and love and not hatred since Vergil had failed him all those years ago. He was the eldest son, the heir to Sparda's name, and he hadn't been able to protect their family from harm. He knew this wasn't him, he did, deep down, but he wanted to pretend, just for the moment, that he was with him once more. 

Even though Sparda's features were gentler his movements weren't; they were growing rougher, more frantic. He was close. Vergil felt strange about how badly he wanted Sparda to cum in him, how much he wanted that seed in his womb, how much he wanted Sparda to find pleasure in his body. 

"What do you want, Vergil?" that voice asked and yes, it did sound like Sparda, just altered by the demonic energy. 

"Hold me?" he asked, "Please, Daddy, I've missed you so much, you feel so good. Please?" 

Sparda pulled out of him and he could see it, the black purple cock with the ridges filled with the white cream of Vergil's arousal, the knot at the base that hadn't even entered him but had him hungry just at the sight, the glowing sharp tip, violet and leaking its own ooze. He wanted it in his mouth, in his pussy, he wanted all of it. 

Sparda lay back and Vergil had to work to get up, to drag himself over and climb onto his father's chest. His coat blanketed them and his amulet hung down between them before he collapsed, shaking, into his father's arms. Such a simple motion and yet he was heaving with the amount it took to get there. But once he was there Sparda's wings were wrapping around him, cocooning him, and his cock found its way back into Vergil's pussy and started to thrust into him again. He held Sparda tight, moaning and crying and not caring that he was a mess, that his hair had fallen around his face, that he was drooling and there was snot dripping down his nose. Sparda wiped the worst of it away, thrust up to slide Vergil closer so that he could kiss him. His tongue was thick and long and Vergil sucked on it, wanting more, loving the way his womb was being pummeled into the perfect shape for his father's cock head. 

"Is this what you wanted boy?" Sparda asked when he pulled away for a moment, letting Vergil breathe. 

"More?" Vergil moaned, kissing Sparda's cheek. "Want you to fill me up." 

"Of course," Sparda promised and the next kiss was deeper, his tongue sliding not just into Vergil's mouth but into his throat and he sucked on it, bobbed his head back and forth in a facsimile of a blow job, loving how it filled his mouth so much, how he could feel Sparda moan, how Sparda's hips were speeding up. 

The knot slapped against his clit and his body was so tired that he didn't think he could have another orgasm but his cock was perking up and drooling with interest. Sparda's claws dug into his hair, keeping Vergil's head steady so that he could thrust into his throat on his own, careful not to choke him. 

His other hand went down to his ass, a sharp claw trailing around the rim. Vergil shoved back, trying to get the finger into him and succeeding, trying to get that knot into his pussy. 

"You want that?" Sparda chuckled, deep in his throat. 

"Please, want you to stay with me," Vergil gasped around a sharp inhale. 

"Whatever my boy wants," Sparda promised and it was a lie, he knew that, but he didn't want to think of that. The claw thrust in and out of him, not slick enough but it felt so good to be open even there. And the knot was being shoved against him, applying pressure to Vergil's clit, making him grit his teeth for a reason other than trying to hide his pleasure. It was a hard push and then a relaxing few thrusts and then another hard push. Vergil's arms were wrapped around Sparda's neck the entire time as he braced himself. 

When the knot popped, audibly, into Vergil's cunt he cried out, squirting so much with the new orgasm, that pressure against his pelvic muscle, that it spilled down Sparda's abs and down onto the cushions, staining them. He could feel the knot pulse inside of him, so hot that it felt like the tension in all his muscles would melt away, and the thrusts were so small and minuscule but the length was so high up it was pressing into his stomach. 

He could feel the cum pouring into his womb, filling it, stretching it, spilling out of it and filling his cervix as well. There was so much of it and it felt so good to be filled with so much heat. He tried to squeeze down, to draw out more of that seed, and Sparda groaned at the sensation, more cum spilling into his vagina. 

He was so happy, wrapped up in Sparda, full of him, his body bloated with how much seed there was, he was close to sleep, nuzzling into his father's shoulder, breathing in his scent. The finger in his anus was still now, just resting. He could feel Sparda's chest heave against him. 

"I don't want you to leave me again." Vergil tried to whisper it because he knew that this wasn't real. He knew that Arkham would use this, like he used everything else, against him. But he closed his eyes and he nuzzled deeper and he just tried to pretend a little bit longer. 

"I can stay like this as long as you keep feeding me," Arkham explained and Vergil knew what he meant. He wasn't able to do this on his own. This was why Vergil felt so weak, Arkham was drawing out his demonic energy, using it for himself. He'd never been such a fool as to think that Arkham wasn't using him, after all, but he thought it was for his skill, not his actual essence. 

"Am I performing to expectation?" he asked, voice hoarse. 

"And more." 

He let himself be consumed, just for that scent, that face, that feeling of being wrapped up in his father's arms. He wanted more. He needed it. He wanted his father to soak into his skin, to leave a mark and never leave him. Sparda's body twisted and spread around him like a thick paste, gathering him up and squeezing, the pressure tight and heavy and wonderful. 

But not Sparda. This was something else. The smell was still there but mixed with that ozone smell of death and what he expected Hell to smell like and when he was able to gather his thoughts it wasn't Sparda at all that was holding him. It wasn't Arkham either. It was a thick purple black sludge in a bulbous orb, like a million thin transparent hairs wrapped around a water balloon, but with the slick slide of a slug's underbelly. It was wrapped around Vergil, making his pathetic attempts to struggle completely useless. The gelatinous orb had no features but it had thick long tendrils, one of which having replaced the cock in his pussy, the cum squelching out around it. 

Another had replaced the finger in his ass and it was so much larger and constantly moving, all of that strange body continuously shifting as if it weren't meant to be in this world at all. It wasn't. This was wrong. 

"What is this?" Vergil murmured as the appendages shifted and wrapped around him, flipping him onto his back, tendrils taking his wrists and holding them tightly together, another around his throat, more, smaller ones, wrapping around his breasts and toying with his nipples. One took him by the knee, a second for the other, and held his legs open, pulling him wide. He felt like he was sinking slightly into the body beneath him. 

"This is power, ultimate," Akrham explained and he thrust into him. He didn't pull back out, didn't hump at him in this form, he just kept shoving. Vergil was whimpering and writhing from it, expending what little energy he had left just trying to take it as Arkham continued to push. 

His body was slick fluid and he was pushing out his cum as he filled Vergil's womb so full it felt it would crack. Vergil's anus spread to accommodate all of it and it pressed up into his intestine, into his stomach and Vergil could see how his torso extended to take it all, muscles complaining at how they were pushed past their limit. 

"No more," he whined, "It's too much!" 

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Arkham asked and there was no mouth, the sound was just coming from everywhere around him. "You said you wanted to be filled up, so here I am, filling you." 

The tendril inside of his ass rolled as if it had muscles of its own flexing and then it was growing darker. Vergil's eyes widened as he looked down at the tendril where it met his poor rim, could see the production of eggs, little sluggish creatures curled up into balls, the shells forming around them in pieces before coming together with the soft consistency of jello. 

"I can't," Vergil shook his head, minuscule, he could hardly even keep his head up. "I can't take that." 

"Shh," Arkham ordered and slid the tendril from around Vergil's throat into his mouth. It was cold, tasted like brine and his own fluids, and it slid easily into him, pushing down on his tongue as it filled his throat. "Feel my power within you." 

Vergil could feel the soft rounds of the eggs, so much more solid than the tendril itself, press into him, the exertion against his tired tissues like fire, only to be cooled by the ooze that Arkham was covered, was made of. The eggs pushed into his guts and he could feel them swell and grow, the entities within them becoming stronger and ready to eat their way out of their shells. 

The tendril in his throat started to fuck him, as did the one in his pussy, and his hands were in weak fists, his eyes rolling back. It was so much, too much. He couldn't focus on any of it. There was pleasure everywhere, all around him, and it hurt so badly, had gone past the pleasure into something far more. 

The eggs shoving into his ass made him cum, a different, more fiery orgasm than the others, making his shaking turn to quaking, the clenching of his body making Arkham roar around him as three more of those eggs slipped into him in rapid succession, just doubling his orgasm and making it so much more intense. 

"Too much," Arkham groaned against him, those tendrils playing with him just a moment longer before falling away, "I can't. It's too much." 

There was the sickening squelch of all those tendrils, the body beneath him, bursting, the power too much for Arkham to contain; having been too much for him to retain Sparda's form. Those within him soaked into Vergil with salt water and power, flooding him once more with himself. Vergil fell, the body beneath him smaller, more human, and Arkham had little care to catch him. He was quickly brushed off, left to drip all of those fluids that Arkham had filled his body with onto his coat. Vergil was barely able to roll onto his side, to watch Arkham as he stood up, wobbly, shaking, human once more, falling to his knees to vomit the salt water and power he'd tried to steal. But then Vergil was falling asleep in his own mess, too exhausted to do much else. 

\---

He woke up alone, feeling stronger, strong enough to stand at the very least. He sat up, looking at his coat and then shedding it. It was coated in slop, in cum and ooze and his own fluids. He didn't remember all of what had happened, was too weak to really understand it but his body remembered. He knew that his father had been there, but he wasn't, it was Arkham, and he knew that Arkham had done more after that. 

He hated to damage his coat but it was already ruined. He wiped at his crotch with it, pushing out the remaining goo that was inside of him. There was movement, deep inside of him. He gripped his stomach. Arkham had put something inside of him, that was right, something dark and soft and it had felt so good to get them in. He had to push them out. They were deep. He would go a few moments of just shoving before having to stop and breathe and shove again. 

The eggs were the size of golf balls, completely black and opaque. He crushed each and every one of them underfoot. 

Then he leaned back on his cum soaked lounge, hands over his eyes, and breathed. He had gotten himself into something big and now he knew that he was just a rook in this game that Arkham was playing. 

He wondered about Dante. Was he also a player in this game or just a fly in Arkham's trap. If he knew what had just happened, he would find Vergil weak and that was something that he could not abide. The next time he saw his twin he would prove his superiority.


End file.
